Shut Up, Cara
by its-never-lupus
Summary: There's a little bit of JackSpot in here, only implied, nothing explicit, mostly rated for language. Ahywho, very cute, very fluffy, and largely nonslashy, which is a rarity for me. Cool, huh? Yeah, I thought so. Please review!


Do not own Race or any other Newsies mentioned within. This is the first fic I've written without writing it down first, so we'll see where this goes! I hope y'all like it, 'cause I'm sure (to me, anyways) it'll be terrible. This plotline is screwed up! LOL!

"I HATE AP Chem!" Spitfire complained as she and her best friend, Anthony 'Racetrack' Higgins walked out of their classroom.

"So, why are you taking, _cara_?" asked Race, with a smirk. "I thought you LOVED challenging yourself."

"I loved challenging myself when it comes to my music, _mariposa_, NOT when it comes to academics. I'm only taking this class for the college credits. That does NOT mean I'm enjoying it. What does _cara_ mean, anyway?"

"Tell me what _mariposa_ means first."

"It literally means 'butterfly', and it's kind of like a derogatory term for gay people. We had on our Spanish test today. I SWEAR! Senora Canterrero is trying to kill me with homework! And all the words on our test are words that no one cares about. Now, what does _cara _mean?"

"It's Italian for 'dear', usually used condescendingly. But it's all good, since you called me a queer!"

"Race, you know I didn't mean it. I'm just tired, tense, and I need somthin' ta eat."

"Are you going to the dance on Friday?"

"Wow. That was outta the blue. I thought about it, but then I realized it was another attempt by society to turn me into an Abercrombie chick. I refuse to be an Abercrombie chick! So, I'm gonna wear my chain jeans, some kinda T-shirt, my brother's Old Navy Fresno hat, and my sneakers that are stained pink from wearing them to track practice. Why? Are you gonna go?"

"Thought about it. But I don't wanna wear nice clothes. I'll follow your example, O Great Trendsetter, and wear what I'd normally wear to school, I guess."

She smiled. "That's cool. I'm a trendsetter! _Ai-yi-yi-yi-yi!_ _Bailamos, let the rhythm take you over, Bailamos! Te quiero, te quiero, Bailamos!_ " And she danced down the hallway, singing Enrique Iglesias, and frightening a few little freshman. Race shook his head. At least five times a day, Liz reminded him where she'd gotten her nickname 'Spitfire'. The Enrique Iglesias and dancing was a prime example.

**FRIDAY**

The day of the dance dawned gray and cold. It was, after all, Winter Formal. And Liz was NOT going to wear a dress. She had decided, as she later explained to Race, that dresses are things of the devil, and she couldn't breathe in them.

"And, after all, you need to breathe to dance, dontcha, Race?" she asked, as they were walking home.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure, whatever."

"Race? _Mariposa_? You seem kind of out of it. That's the fifth or sixth time I called you a queer in Spanish today, and you haven't slugged me yet. Not that I miss the slugging, but I'm kinda worried."

"Just thinkin'."

"'Bout what?"

"Stuff."

"We've been friends for years! Come on, open up, Race. I know you can do it. Tell me what's wrong."

"Well…there's this girl, and-"

"And you wanna ask her out? Race, dude, what you lack in height, usually you make up for in guts. Just walk up to the chick, look her in the eye(if you can, _mi bajo amigo_), then ask her out. Not hard."

"Easy for you to say."

"Race-"

"Just shut up, _cara_."

And for once, Liz was quiet. She could tell this was buggin' the hell out of her best friend, and, when provoked, his VERY Italian temper would flare up, and sometimes he'd get violent. They walked the rest of the way to their respective houses in silence, agreeing to find one another at the dance that evening. As Race walked home in silence, he found himself missing Liz's constant singing, and counting the hours 'till the dance started. Not that he was attracted to her or anything, he just missed the companionship of his best friend of six years. 'Eh', he thought to himself. 'I'll see her tonight.'

The theme of Winter Formal this year was "Walkin' In A Winter Wonderland." And everyone thought the title was uber-lame, but no one could do anything about it.

(A/N: All right, I'm gonna switch to POV's now, 'cause writing omnipotent-style narrating is WAY too tough on my tiny brain!)

**SPITFIRE**

I hate dances. I hate dances. I hate-"SPOT! Spot Conlon, you flaming fruit, give your only girl cousin a hug!" Yes, Spot Conlon is my cousin. Conlon was my mother's maiden name, and since his mom is a single mom, my aunt Kelly just gave Spot her name. His mom and dad never got married, his asshole dad took off when he was six months old. And since my mom is divorced, my name was legally changed to-you guessed it-Conlon. It seems Conlon women can't stay away from asshole men. My father took off with the secretary from his office, and they moved to Atlanta together. Broken homes, but one huge family with a lotta heart. We're cousins of the weirdest kind. He's REALLY gay, and I'm in love with an Italian gambler who's half a foot shorter than me.

I didn't just say that.

Anyways, I got my hug from Spot, who then dragged me over to meet his new boyfriend. Turns out, I actually knew the guy. His name was Jack Kelly, but everyone called him 'Cowboy'. He and Spot are SO cute together. Ooo, it's almost too cute. Cowboy was in my Spanish class, we had done a couple projects together, he was a really nice guy, very loud and funny. Like I said, perfect for Spot. I heard a stream of swearing in Italian, a couple of girls giggling, then Racetrack Higgins poked his head of thick dark hair into the little group we'd inadvertently formed.

"I swear…cheerleaders are EVIL!" he muttered under his breath, swearing some more, I'm sure. I'm not fluent in Italian, but, 'Non sono stupido come lei pensa che sia.' I'm not as stupid as you think I am.

"And their makeup is very slutty" I heard Spot say, kinda vaguely. I was off in my own little world. But I was brought back VERY abruptly when I saw what my flamer of a cousin had chosen to wear that evening. He was wearing a tight black muscle shirt with 'SEXY' written across it in sliver sequins, skintight (I kid you not, _skintight_) black leather pants, and some grungy black sneakers that normally wouldn't work with those clothes, but Spot somehow always manages to pull off the impossible. Standing next to him, Cowboy looked rather plain in his jeans and T-shirt that read 'Barbie Is A Lesbian'.

I grinned. My cousin and his boyfriends.

I looked back over at Race, and gave him a hug hello. "¿Como estas, _mi bajo amigo?_ What d'you think of my cousin's outfit?"

Race looked over at Spot in horror, and then said, under his breath, "I suppose I should be used to this by now, seeing as how he's over at your house all the time, dressed like that." Spot flipped him the bird, and we all laughed. "Come on Race, it's not THAT bad. You shoulda seen him at my second cousin's wedding!" And I collapsed into fits of laughter.

Spot glared down at me. "Lizzy, I thought we agreed we were NEVER discussing that again! You promised!"

"All bets are off, banana boy! Anywho, Race, he shows up, slightly smashed, wearing a wedding gown he'd somehow managed to lay his hands on, in full drag, sways to the center of the dance floor and yells, at the top of voice (Here I did a really bad imitation of Spot's accent), 'Listen up, you homophobic assholes! Ise Spot Conlon, and Ise gay! I got a boyfriend, and I fucked him before comin' in here and pullin' a Dennis Rodman!'. Then he threw up, and I drove him home." Everybody laughed except Spot, who flipped me the bird this time, but all of his laughed, including him.

"Hey, Liz" Race said quietly. "You, um, I mean…do you wanna…"

"Do I wanna what, Race?"

"Lei vuole al ballo?" he asked in a rush. When Race gets nervous, flustered, or pissed off, he tends to talk in Italian.

"You gotta translate that there for me, _mi amigo._ Although I'm guessing it has something to do with dancing, since _ballo_ sounds like _bailo_. Am I right?"

"Yeah. So, you wanna dance?"

**RACETRACK**

I don't believe this. Liz is my best friend, she's never made me nervous before. But, if I recall, not five seconds ago, I was stammering like a girl. But Liz was smiling. "Sicuro, _mi bajo amigo._" "Of course, my short friend."

I could feel my eyes getting bigger. "You can speak Italian?"

She shrugged. "Little snippets I've picked up here and there, nothing fancy. Non sono stupido come lei pensa che sia."

My jaw literally FELL open. "You are definitely NOT as stupid as I thought!"

"Hey! But, sure, I'd love to dance."

"You would? Really??"

"Sure. This song that's on now? I'll teach you to salsa. Remember this song? It was the one I was singing on Monday, dancing down the hallways, remember?"

I grinned. "Yeah. You scared a couple freshmen, if memory serves."

"Stupid freshmen."

_Bailamos_

_Let the rhythm take you over_

_Bailamos_

"OK, Racetrack, I may be German-Irish, but I LOVE to salsa dance. When it comes to salsa, 'È tutti l'nei fianchi'. Like this."

She took a step, circled her hips around, then stepped with her other foot, and repeated the motion.

"Uh, Liz? My hips don't move like that! I ain't a goil!"

"Race, you big baby! ANYBODY can salsa! Your culture is actually closer related then mine! _Perdente!_"

"Chickie, where do you keep learning these Italian words? It's like you swallowed an Italian-English dictionary, or somethin'."

_Te quiero, te quiero_

_Bailamos_

"Now, put one hand on my waist, the other, hold it up here, and move your feet-yeah, that's good! No, don't step on my toes! -, Now, just move your hips! That's pretty damn good, Race!"

I smiled. "You think so?"

"Certo, il mio amico breve. You dance divinely!"

So we salsaed. And I must say, I enjoyed it. But my tongue was sticking to the roof of my mouth, my palms were sweaty, and my heart was beating like Snitch's snare drum. (Sorry. Don't know where that comparison came from. Ok, anyways…) _Bailamos_ ended, and 'I'll Catch You' by The Get-Up Kids came on. Christ. A slow song. Just my luck. And we were gettin along so well.

"Hey, Race, I'm gonna get somethin' from the overpriced refreshment table. You want anything? Unless youse wanna keep dancing?" She looked a little nervous when she said that.

"Uh…sure. But, Fireball? I gotta tell youse a secret, only youse gotta promise not to tell anybody."

"What is it?"

"I never…well, I've never slow danced with a goil before."

"Oh, well. Qui, è facile. Lo mostrerò. Just put your arms around my waist, and mine go around your neck, and we just sway to the music."

So we tried that. It was pretty easy. I caught on after the first 20 seconds, that's how easy it was.

We ended up hanging out together for the rest of the dance, eventually deciding to take off around 10:30, we were gonna beat the rush to get out. But then, Liz's favorite slow song, 'Good Morning Beautiful' came on, so she insisted we stay. And since she was my ride home, I really didn't have a choice. So, we ended up dancing together(big shocker there, huh?), and I decided. It was now, or never!

"Liz?"

**SPITFIRE**

Race is a very good dancer. We, believe it or not, danced to 'Hey Mama' by The Black Eyed Peas, and from the cheers and clapping we got, we weren't half bad. Heh heh heh. Race was trying to be Will.I.Am., but not doing so good, but my Fergie impersonation was rather good, I thought. We also did the Cotton-Eyed Joe, the Electric Slide, and a very BAD version of the Hustle. You know, all those corny songs they play at school dances? We were all that, baby. Anyways, I'd noticed that Race hadn't danced with anyone else the whole night. Also, the poor kid looked paler than me, and that's really saying something. So, there we were, dancing to 'Good Morning Beautiful', and all of a sudden he said, "Lei vuole uscire un giorno?"

"What?" I asked. This was outside my very limited Italian.

"Do you wanna go out sometime?" he asked very quietly, looking at his shoes.

"What brought this on?" I asked, tipping his chin up so he was looking at me. "And don't tell me it's the punch, I know for a fact it wasn't spiked."

"Well…"

"Speak up, Race, my hearing doesn't cover whispering."

"Molto boffo. I mean, you're really nice, you don't take crap from nobody, you lent me some money when I made bets I couldn't pay. And I have yet to hear you ask for it back."

"Well, yeah, but-"

"But nothin'. Youse're the best friend I've ever had, and…and…L'amo" he finished softly.

I sucked in a breath. "Race, lei sono il mio amico migliore, y" I drew in another breath, "L'amo, anche."

Race looked up at me. "Where's you learn how to say all this stuff? Come on, tell me! Please?"

I sighed. "OK, ok. I used freetraslation.com, OK? I had a feeling I might need some sayings like this in the near future. So I looked them up."

Race laughed. "So, in a way, youse DID swallow an Italian-English dictionary. An electronic one."

I laughed too. "Now, I believe you asked me something, and I never answered. What was it again?"

Race smiled the smile that had melted my heart the first time, and every time after, he'd directed it at me. "Lei vuole uscire un giorno?"

"Andiamo, già!"

He laughed. "How about tomorrow, instead? Seein' as how it's almost 11:00, and I gotta be home by 11:30. How about lunch, around 1ish?"

"Sicuro. Amerei andare. You're the bomb, Race. You know that?"

Before he could respond, I leaned over and kissed him, something I'd wanted to do since 9th grade, TWO whole years ago. You have no possible idea how sweet that kiss finally was.

As we walked out of the gym, hand in hand, me babbling about something or other, he took my chin, turned me to face him, and said, with that grin on his face, "Shut up, Cara."

God, I love that man.

END

_Good morning beautiful how was your night_

_Mine was wonderful with you by my side_

_And when I opened my eyes and see your sweet face_

_Its a good morning beautiful day_

__

_I couldn't see the light_

_I didn't know day from night_

_I had no reason to care_

_Well since you came along_

_I can face the dawn_

_Cause I know you'll be there_

__

_Good morning beautiful how was your night_

_Mine was wonderful with you by my side_

_And when I opened my eyes and see your sweet face_

_Its a good morning beautiful day_

__

_I__ never worry if it's raining outside_

_Cause in here with you girl the sun always shines_

__

_Good morning beautiful how was your night_

_Mine was wonderful with you by my side_

_And when I opened my eyes and see your sweet face_

_Its a good morning beautiful day_

_Good morning beautiful day_

_It's a beautiful day_

_Good morning day_

_What a beautiful day_

A/N: Well?! Whatcha think?! It took me ALL DAY to write this, wandering around my house, trying to get ideas. I ended up watching Newsies again for inspiration. Oh, yeah. I'm pretty sure not all of you are fluent in Italian, so I'm providing some translations for you, courtesy of FreeTranslation.com:

Molto boffo- Very funny

Qui, è facile. Lo mostrerò.- Here, it's easy. I'll show you.

Balliamo- Let's dance

È tutti l'nei fianchi- It's all in the hips

Certo- Of course

Sicuro- Sure

Non sono stupido come lei pensa che sia- I'm not as stupid as you think I am

Certo, il mio amico breve- Of course, my short friend

Lei vuole uscire un giorno?- You want to go out sometime?

Andiamo, già!- Let's go, already!

Lei vuole al ballo?- You want to dance?

Lei sono il mio amico migliore- You are my best friend

L'amo- I Love You

L'amo, anche- I love you, too

Amerei andare- I'd love to go

****


End file.
